Recollections of an encounter--
“What kind of wine would you like me to bring?” I emailed her.
The message came back, “Malbec.”
Good choice. I really like the dark berries and spiciness that Malbecs possess. They sip well all by themselves, though I was hoping the pairing for this one, tonight, would be more than just a nice wine tasting.
She had a light coat wrapped around her robe as she met me by the door. Her near shoulder-length hair was black tinted in a blue-green accent. She’s tiny, maybe 5 foot 2 with a slight build. She led me into her apartment where she locked the door and hung her coat. She touched an empty hook as she smiled at me; I hung my sweater. After I set down the envelope and wine she reached around me and gave me a huge welcoming hug.
There were two goblets on the butcher block counter. She took a corkscrew from the drawer and gave me the task of opening and pouring. I offered her glass then poured mine. She took my hand and led me to the comfortable sofa in the living room. We clinked glasses and sipped, savoring the dark fruit. We held hands and chatted. I shared about my life situation and experience, well maybe lack thereof in certain areas. I told her about my particular desires for eye contact and attraction to cunnilingus. She made her mental notes.
After a few more minutes of pleasantry and flirtation, we confirmed that I needed to go home with no more marks than I might get at a deep tissue massage. Another sip and she stood. “Refill my glass and let’s go into my studio.”
Her studio is separated from the living room by a brown lace curtain. I scanned the room through the curtain counterclockwise from about 1 o'clock. I could see a door on the right leading to another room or maybe closet —she went in to get her 5-inch clear platform heels; she nearly reached my height with them on— and a massage table. I couldn't see the rest of the room until I walked in.
On the left wall, speakers and a tall open shelf unit were in front of the window and in the 7 o’clock corner stood a tall black padded “X”--a St. Andrew’s cross. The walls had hooks for various “decorations”: a fancy black costume mask and feather duster hung on the wall by the massage table. Near the cross hung various lengths of thick red rope and other items she used in play.
She hopped up on the massage table and said, “I want you to strip and fold your clothes.” I walked over to her and pulled my shirt over my head. Before I knew it she was behind me. She swatted my butt, grabbed it, and whispered in my ear, “When I give you a command, you respond, ‘Yes, Mistress.’”
“Good,” she said.
I continued undressing as she did something behind me, I think she was adjusting the playlist or volume of the music. “Hurry up.”
“Yes Mistress,” I replied as I quickly folded my jeans and underwear and put them in the pile.
“Put them on this shelf then get on the table face down.”
“Now give me some deep breaths,” she said as she began leaning into my shoulders and pressing the heels of her hands into my upper back. After a few minutes and more reminders to breathe, something finally gave and she said, “That’s a good boy, now you are starting to relax. Now roll over and scoot down.”
“Yes Mistress,” I said as I obeyed. She pressed firmly into my pec muscles; I commented on her surprising strength. She told me tries to work out to stay fit. She pressed and kneaded a few more minutes.
“I’m going to go take off my purple lips. I don’t want to get it all over you. Close your eyes and imagine yourself taking off my robe.” She stepped into the bathroom.
I replied, “Yes Mistress.”
She touched along my legs as she returned. She lightly slapped my erection then kissed it before she returned to the head of the massage table. She put the matching fabric tie of her robe in my mouth and said, “bite it”. She spun, laughing as she unwound it. She pulled off the robe revealing her perfectly form fitting white with gray trim bra and panty set. The bra had a unique strap that made a collar around her neck. It was very sexy. She moved down the table to make sure I could see her. Then she sashayed up the length of the table lightly touching my skin as she went.
Back at my head, she whispered, “Have you ever been cuffed?”
“There’s a first time for everything. Don’t go anywhere.”
She walked down the side of the table past my feet to the door to the other room. She returned with the cuffs. Watching her walk across my view, it was my first glimpse of her tight body from the side. Her ass is magnificently firm and toned. She chided me for watching her. “You told me not to move, you didn't say, ‘don’t look,’” I said playfully.
“Close your eyes.” As she walked along the table, she lifted my arms above my head. She fastened a wide leather cuff to my right wrist and laid my arm back and repeated on the left. She quickly finished my wrists and moved to my ankles.
“Okay, get up,” she said as she patted my leg.
“Oh! I'm not strapped to the table?” I was surprised. I guess with my eyes closed my imagination took over.
She moved to the six-foot square white faux fur rug in the middle of the room. “Right here on all fours.”
She stood in front of me her slender legs touching the top of my head. She fastened a collar around my neck and explained that the collar symbolized her ownership. While it was on, I was not my own; I was only hers. The safe word would be “red”. “Is this understood?”
“Good boy. Now lay down, Put your hands behind your back.” She hooked together rings on each cuff. She bent my left leg at the knee and joined it to my wrists then repeated adding my right ankle with a final ‘click.’ “There,” she giggled. “How does that feel?”
“It’s OK, I guess.”
“Try to move.”
“Yes Mistress,” I said as I tried to pull my hands and feet against each other. I finally managed to roll onto my back.
“Breathe, Dear. Don’t forget you need to breathe.”
“Yes Mistress.” I got my wrists down near my buttocks, but with my ankles secured to them my right hamstring cramped up after just a few seconds in this unfamiliar position. I kind of gasped, “Oh, I have a cramp.”
“Do you mean, ‘red?’” she asked as she moved to unhook the ankles from my wrists.
“No. You weren't hurting me. I think I could have endured it.”
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